Foraging Fellatio

"This kind of stimulation never appeals to me",

I told a family friend once in no uncertain terms as his mouth drunk from wine tried to find a way towards my teenage penis while frantically fumbling with the zip of my jeans.

Maybe it is the fact that I have an ultra-sensitive helmet under my foreskin and the slightest touch makes me shiver.

Since then, I have let women try when they are keen and do not take no for an answer. It never lasts more than a few seconds before I push them away from me while wiggling in agony.

The only time ever I was relaxed enough to endure the whole procedure from the beginning until the happy ending was with someone who knew what she was doing.

And that was because she had sucked off almost every cab driver downtown to get a free ride home after too many boozy nights out.

To this day drivers honk when they see her, and shout from lowered windows willing to take her anywhere.

She not only sucked me so gently totally avoiding any contact with her teeth, but she massaged my balls gripping and squeezing them making my phallus grow to new heights within her mouth.

Imagine the surprise I felt as she suddenly rubbed my anus while giving head after pushing my legs further apart.

My body sunk deeper into the bright coloured marshmallow shaped pillows that were spread out over the mattress.

Her straggly long blonde hair hung lose over her face so I could not clearly see her expression during these actions, but the steady breathing and the occasional slurp and moan made me realize she was enjoying herself.

Most of the time my eyes were closed anyway so I could concentrate on the feelings that were increasingly making me so horny that I started to rock my hips to get deeper within her grip.

Amazed at the sensation of one of her fingers now sliding its way gradually inside my wet little ass hole.

She was in total control multi-tasking with great precision while I suddenly had a big problem avoiding a major ejaculation within half a minute or so.

I could feel pre cum gushing from my tip mixing with her saliva and squeezed my nipples extremely hard with the nails from both my thumbs and middle fingers just to delay shooting my load there and then.

All kind of horror scenarios crossed my mind trying to stop my spunk from rising. From run over pets on the highway to Trump getting in for a second term.

It didn't matter, my friend with extra ordinary benefits practised circular breathing like a saxophone player and the only thing I could do was surrender to the rhythm of the moment.

Her soft touch on the G-spot deep inside my butt brought this mother of all blowjobs to a shuddering crescendo when I finally let myself go and shot a lifetime of previous oral frustration all over her face and naked breasts with some cum dribbling from her wicked smile shortly afterwards.

Other men would then chase high and low for a repeat experience. It would only lead to disappointment due to the law of diminished satisfaction. The desire is there but the result will never be the same again.

I believe it was Oscar Wile who said: "There are two tragedies in life, getting what you want and not getting what you want", and plenty of us know how his wit and career came to a crushing halt after a devastating court case examining and penalizing his bisexuality.

It was illegal then and still is in some places today for men to have sex with each other. In some cultures, people turn a blind eye to it and see the experience as a rite of passage into full blown masculinity before getting married to someone of the opposite sex.

When Vanilla Cock-Block who I was meant to marry admitted one night after several drinks too many that she was prostituting herself because she liked giving blowjobs on a Saturday afternoon and loved getting paid for it, I decided I needed some time away from her to collect my thoughts.

Christ almighty who suffered for our sins would have forgiven her without a doubt, as He only knew too well a thing or two about prostitutes. I only had ever come face to face with them winking at me in the red- light district during a stag weekend in Amsterdam.

Almost every morning when my fiancée and I woke up together she offered to nibble my knob but after several aborted attempts I always politely declined.

Just to clear my head one day I went to the nearest park late afternoon; it was a lush and lazy Sunday early in my favourite time of the year. Spring, the season when the flora and fauna starts to blossom all around us.

There were families having picnics and teenagers kicking a ball around while running with a drink in their hands. It was wind still and the sun seemed to land on the trees ahead of me while it was setting ever so slowly.

Once I entered the secluded copse at the end of the park the light faded, and a narrow path weaved its way through a thicket of small trees and bushes. This was all new territory for me, but I just kept going anyway.

There was a figure hunched over some tree branches off the beaten track. He looked up and greeted me with a tip to his beret. I could see he was making a circle with the wood that was collected and piled up high and as I got closer, I recognized him.

It was Ernesto the landscape gardener who had trimmed some of the bushes in the front garden for a previous girlfriend of mine a year and a half before we had split up.

"Amigo, how nice to see you here", came the greeting wrapped in an exuberant South American accent. Like a long-lost brother from a different parent welcoming me back he waved his arms and gestured me to sit down just outside the circle.

I made myself comfortable on a large stretch of grass, resting on both arms with my legs stretched out in front of me, one over the other. The soil underneath was hard and dry.

Watching Ernesto, I wondered what on earth he was trying to achieve building a huge circle in this part of the woods.

"Hey comrade what is bothering you, you look puzzled", he suddenly asked out of the blue.

"Well, there are good times and less good times in relationships, and I have hit a rough patch so the speak", I hesitantly answered with a sour smile.

"You are no longer with the girl whose front bush I trimmed because I did her back bush as well the other day in the garden and you were no longer there, so it must be someone else giving you a hard time"

He grinned and strolled over looming large, casting a shadow over me.

The last thing I wanted to do is tell him about Miss Cock-Block because even though she did not have a garden I was assured he would find another way to help her out.

He kneeled and put one of his rough hands black from the soil on my right leg and gave a little squeeze, enough to surprise and make me freeze on the spot.

His fingers started to knead my thigh close to my groin and I could see the black earth underneath his long fingernails.

"Have you ever heard the song 'Sexual Healing' by Marvin Gaye?"

It seemed his voice had dropped an octave or so as his mouth, encircled by a small tuft of hair, spoke ever so close to my ear.

"It does miracles for people in distress you know"

Hell, yes, I'd heard it through the grapevine I guess, feeling put on the spot and out of place both at the same time.

He moved his hand over my crotch while humming the intro of the song and rubbed it while staring boldly into my squinting eyes. I could hear an owl hoot somewhere high up.

The cheek of it I thought without saying anything, staying put in the same position. Was I paralyzed by fear or overtaken by curiosity?

Bit of both and at the same time slightly worried if someone could see us or would suddenly appear strolling down the path in our direction.

Without any hesitation my cock started to rise inside my white flannel trousers, there was nothing I could do about it and he knew it too.

With one hand he took off his beret and swung it like a frisbee inside the half-finished circle and with the other he rolled down my zip.

As it happened, I did not wear any boxers or briefs, a kinky little habit I have most weekends when the weather is good.

I could feel my prick pop out, standing tall and a gush of wind fanning the flames of my erection.

For a second or so I closed my eyes and became fully aware that for the first time in my life a man was about to have his way with me.

He slouched downwards and started to lick the red-hot tip with his tongue.

Feeling his hot breath enclosing my private parts made me spread my legs a little to create more room for whatever was going to happen.

The minute he started to suck and stroke at the same time, I lost all remaining inhibitions regarding blowjobs.

The sensation of having your cock sucked outdoors can be quite overwhelming and my brain started to buzz and spin right between my ears.

He was gathering speed with both his hand and mouth stroking and sucking me as if there was a real urgency in making me cum quickly.

This off grid adventure had turned my desire on fire and as in a trance or on drugs I took in all the beautiful, coloured flowers and grasses surrounding us.

Just to stop me from ejaculating I tried to remember their Latin names. I could see a 'Dactylis Glomerata' also known as 'Cock's Foot', the 'Juncus Effusus Spiralis' better known as 'Corkscrew Rush' but much too soon it all became a blur.

In the spirit of the moment, I made a rash decision. To slow things down a notch or two I pushed his legs apart and managed to open the brown leather motor bike pants he was wearing.

The view inside was enough for me to get to work quickly; His massive cock was trapped in a black lace thong and looked like the leaning tower of Pisa.

Heavy and tilting, in need of urgent support.

What followed next will be etched forever on my mind, until the day I die.